


'Thou Shalt Not Imply'

by Meiilan



Series: Big Brother Gabriel [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Family Feels, M/M, Tension, arguments are being had, death sells ice cream, things get sorted again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21957259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meiilan/pseuds/Meiilan
Summary: The long awaited next part in the series. This time, I will post the story in chapters, since I do not have the time to finish it all in one go and I don't want to leave you guys waiting. Gabriel finally has his serious conversation with the Metatron. Boundaries are being set and duties are being reestablished. Oh and Death sells ice cream.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Big Brother Gabriel [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1432264
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	'Thou Shalt Not Imply'

Aziraphale watched the rain pouring down outside his bookshop, worrying a cup of cocoa in his hands. “Oh, this is bad”, he mumbled, repeating words he had recited like a mantra for at least two hours now. Crowley, who had been lounging on the sofa for those last two hours, threw his hands in the air, sighing exasperated. “It’s just rain, angel. We’re in London. Rain is normal.”  
Aziraphale turned around and fixed the demon with his trademark ‘oh please’ look.  
“In the middle of August?”  
“Sometimes… it rains in August, too…”  
“For an entire week?”  
“You read the newspapers, angel. Global warming is messing up all kinds of weather.”  
Aziraphale shook his head and turned back to watch the grey, cloudy sky with an expression of apprehension.  
“This rain does not come from global warming, my dear.”  
“Then where else does it come from, huh!?”  
Aziraphale chose not to answer that.

~*~

Uriel watched the droplet of water slowly form on the ceiling, growing in size until gravity got stronger than surface tension and it fell down. In the last moment she miracled a teacup, decorated with painted lavender branches to catch the drop, before it hit the floor. Her office looked like a poorly organized porcelain thrift store by now. On every flat surface there were cups and pots of varying shapes and sizes, filled with various amounts of water, some just containing a few drops, others almost overflowing. A knock on the door announced a flustered looking angel, with a bucket in hand.  
“Uhm”, he said, eyeing all the cup in Uriel’s office. She waved him in with a bored expression. “Go ahead.” having just waited for her commando, he hurried in and carefully poured every cup into his bucket, before putting it right back where it was before. once he got every cup, his bucket was already sloshing precariously. With a last look back at the seemingly bored archangel, he slipped out of the door again, probably to fetch a new bucket.  
The intercom on Uriel’s desk came to live with a melodious ding.  
“Well?”, she asked, not even bothering to find out who was calling first.  
“No luck”, came Michael’s voice, slightly distorted through the intercom. Uriel wasn’t sure, but she thought to have heard an edge of frustration. “He claims, he is too busy.”  
“In the middle of August!?”  
“Apparently, yes.”  
“Isn’t there any way to, you know, file for an urgent appointment?”  
“With Armageddon averted, what else should there be urgent?”  
“Oh I don’t know”, Uriel shot back, irritation crawling into her voice, “Maybe the fact, that the archangel fucking Gabriel is currently turning Headquarters into history’s dampest, most disappointing flood, because he’s been kept on hold for an entire week now!”  
“There is no need to yell at me”, Michael chided softly and Uriel instantly felt guilty. She opened her mouth to apologise, but was interrupted by Sandalphon barging into her office.  
“I found something”, he exclaimed, and he would have probably sounded triumphantly, if he wasn’t wheezing for air at the same time. The poor sod must have ran all the way from the the archives up to the offices. Still trying to catch his breath, he held out an old looking scroll in a shaking hand.  
“What is it?”, came Michael’s voice through the intercom, “What is going on?”  
“Sandalphon seems to have found something. Wait. I’ll turn up the mic.” Changing the settings on her intercom, Uriel waved the other archangel further in. Carefully spreading the scroll out on a mostly dry spot on Uriel’s desk, Sandalphon pointed to a short passage of text, written in an archaic form of Arabic.  
“There, according to this paragraph the archangels must come together each millennia to discuss the distribution of our work forces and the overall goals for the next millennium.”  
Uriel, frowned confused. “But the change of millennia has been a couple hundred years ago.  
“Only if we count by the old calendar”, Michael corrected, “According to the currently used Gregorian calendar, the last change of Millennia was less than 2 decades ago.”  
Now it dawned on Uriel as well.  
“Because the project Antichrist was in its last stages of preparation at that time, we didn’t have the time to come together like that.”  
“An awful oversight for sure”, Sandalphon said, a conspiratory glint in his eyes.  
“Wonderful”, Michael concluded, “see t it, that the document is delivered to my desk asap. Don’t tell Gabriel yet, though. I don’t want to agitate his mood any further, until we are sure this works.”

~*~

The rain has finally let up and Crowley could convince Aziraphale to take a walk in St. James Park with him. Despite the sunny weather, the angel would keep casting worried looks to the sky. In a last attempt to distract the angel, Crowley offered to buy him ice cream. Walking to the ice cream stand, Crowley kept looking over his shoulder, watching the wistful angel with a growing knot of worry in his guts.  
“TWO FIFTY”, a gravelly voice demanded, as the ice cream cone was handed to Crowley.  
Distracted, he fingered for his change, when the information finally caught up with his brain. Looking up, it took all of Crowley’s efforts not to jump out of his skin.  
“Death!?”  
“YES. THAT’S TWO FIFTY”, Death replied.  
“N-no. Yes. I mean- why are you selling ice cream!?”  
“IT’S A… HOBBY”, Death admitted.  
“Selling ice cream?”  
“MAKING PEOPLE HAPPY WITH SUGARY TREATS. IN DECEMBER I MOONLIGHT AS A MALL SANTA.”  
Crowley blinked confused. Okay, that seemed fair enough. When your entire job revolved around the depressing part of life, you gotta compensate for that somehow.  
“WILL YOU PAY FOR THE ICE CREAM NOW? I’M IN A BIT OF A HURRY.”  
“Why? Got another job as a Build-A-Bear employee?”  
“NO. I NEED TO GO UP TO HEADQUARTERS.”  
“Huh? You!? Why?”  
“THE ARCHANGELS HAVE BEEN SUMMONED.”  
“But you’re… well, Death.”  
“I’M ALSO AN ARCHANGEL, DEMON CROWLEY, FORMERLY KNOWN AS CRAWLEY THE SNAKE. THAT MAKES TWO FIFTY.”  
Ouch. That was a low blow. But to be fair, Crowley did just conveniently forget, that Death was the archangel Azrael.  
Still somewhat dumbstruck by that exchange, Crowley handed Death a couple coins, mumbling a ‘keep the change’ and turned around to get back to his angel, already musing over how he should break the news to him.


End file.
